


Proper Methods of Appeasement

by barefootwithneonhands



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Flash Fic, Gen, Horror, One Shot, Spoilers Through 01x03, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootwithneonhands/pseuds/barefootwithneonhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gods are vengeful. The gods are hungry. The gods must be appeased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper Methods of Appeasement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remembertowrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembertowrite/gifts).



Richard jerked awake, heart pounding and breath coming in fast sharp pants. He struggled with the hazy blur in front of his eyes and the thick, heavy cloth binding his arms to his chest until he fell off the couch and slammed nose first into the floor. He shuddered there for a moment, breathing in the dusty chemical stench of old carpet and tried to understand where he was.

Cream carpet, he registered. Not his office. He carefully turned his head and squinted at the low table that had clipped his shoulder on the way down. Cheap, vintage, and hideously brown. Certainly not his office. But absolutely something that would lurk in the Pacific Northwest Stories staff room.

Richard coughed and tried to push himself off the floor. A single indignant growl escaped him as he fought with the old red blanket pinning his arms. Copernicus save him from well-intentioned idiots and Canadians.

He froze in mid-crouch as a low, sonorous chanting slithered through the gray twilight of the room.

The harsh rasp of his own breathing filled his ears and nearly drowned out the sound. With effort he clamped his mouth shut and held his breath, straining to hear.

There it was. That’s what had yanked him from the first deep sleep he’d had in months.

Richard rose slowly, eyes scanning the room as his fingers fumbled for his glasses on the coffee table. Nothing else moved through the nighttime desolation of the building. He slipped his glasses up the bridge of his nose and studied the shadows in the corners. All of them appeared normal, the bright light from the hallway not allowing for true dark.

Carefully, quietly, he placed the blanket on the couch and cursed the TSA for their paranoia regarding weapons and water. The special care package from Ruby sat unopened in his new apartment and his death tonight would be his own damn fault. Save him from well-intentioned idiots, Canadians, and himself.

Creeping silently toward the door Richard turned the knob in a gentle, smooth motion, applying a firm downward pressure to prevent any rattling tumblers from giving him away. Then, bracing his palm underneath the doorknob he lifted the entire door up slightly and pulled it inward on now-silent, tense hinges. Physics hadn’t been his favorite subject, but it was infinitely useful.

Once the doorway gaped wide he paused again. The chanting continued unabated and there was no telltale rustling in the hall indicating that he’d been noticed. Excellent.

Stepping softly into the hallway Richard cocked his head, working to pinpoint the location of the sound. In one direction, the door leading to the street and potentially to safety, provided there were no sentries posted outside. In the other direction, a dim light licked around the edges of the door to Studio A.

He frowned and his eyes flicked back to the red blanket lying rumpled on the worn gray couch. His stomach clenched. Alex was likely dead. Neither she nor Nic would be a challenge to an experienced fighter.

But prevarications weren’t certainties. He had the blood of a dead wife and a distant daughter on his hands. He clenched his fists. Foolish as it was, Richard didn’t relish the thought of more.

Pivoting smoothly he slunk towards the flickering light coming from Studio A. Richard’s frown deepened as he tried to catalogue the language, hoping for a clue as to which cult had hunted him down. The words began to morph into a deep, ominous droning and his brain picked out the word “mama” over and over. A useless collection of syllables that appeared in almost all human languages. If only bloodthirsty murderous occultists attacked at ten in the morning after you’d had a full night’s rest and four cups of strong black tea.

As he reached for handle to Studio A the droning split into a rapid call and response, part pleading and part harsh mockery. His heartbeat sped up in time with the sound and he abandoned stealth for speed, flinging open the door.

He froze. His heart stuttered to a halt.

There in the dim sepia flicker of a half dozen candles was Nic Silver. His hands were clasped above his head and for a brief shining moment Richard thought it was a gesture of supplication. Until he saw the knife. And the small, dark lump the size of a human heart on the table before him.

“We will not let you go,” Nic intoned.

“Let me go,” came a second, flat voice.

Richard’s eyes snapped to the other, smaller figure and ice crackled through his veins. The shining dark hair kissed by firelight. The ethereal glow of her summery white dress. The slim pale hands wrapped around a second knife. Alex. Alex unbound and a willing participant in whatever foul ritual the two were conducting.

The taste of betrayal was bitter and metallic in his mouth, and Richard dimly realized he’d bitten his tongue. He rolled his shoulders and curled his hands into loose fists, bending his knees slightly. She was small and he had the element of surprise. Even armed, he could easily take her down.

“Oh hey, Dr. Strand,” said Nic.

Richard narrowed his eyes. “Nic.”

Alex turned and gave him a mockery of her warm, crooked smile. Her eyes were dark, deep, and infinite. The blade in her hand glinted. “I’m sorry, did we wake you up?”

He felt his face harden. “What are you doing?” His voice was harsh and brittle, and he heard an echo of his father there.

Alex’s brows rose. Nic lowered his knife. “Uh. Just sacrificing the avocado?” Nic shuffled his feet and gestured at the lump on the table with the tip of his blade.

“What.” Richard peered over Alex’s slim shoulder, careful not to step within her reach. There, in the center of a ring of brightly colored candles was a brown and not at all bloody avocado perched on a small wooden cutting board shaped like the state of Washington. For the first time he noticed that the air was painted with the sweet smell of the summer Charlie left a pack of Starburst candy in the back of his car. They’d melted under his seat and had been impossible to clean. He’d been furious at the time, but now the scent brought him back to a time when the world was simple and orderly.

“It’s a podcast thing,” Nic said, breaking his hazy reverie. “You have to sacrifice an avocado before every show to appease the podcast gods.”

He frowned. “Podcast _gods_.”

“Um,” Alex broke in, her brows knitting together as she looked back and forth between Richard and Nic. She gingerly placed her knife on the cutting board.

Nic was still grinning up at Richard, and he held out a hand in defense. Which still held a knife. Which looked like it was about to slice off Nic’s thumb, Richard noted with savage amusement. Save him from well-intentioned idiot Canadians. “Hey man,” the well-intentioned idiot Canadian said, “I don’t make the rules. I just abide by them.”

Richard drew himself up and opened his mouth. Alex quickly stepped forward, hands out and placating. “Come on, Dr. Strand.” She gently herded him toward the door. “We’re really sorry we woke you up. How about some herbal tea with a bit of honey? Might get you back to sleep.”

Thunder rolled portentously outside, and Nic shrugged. “Oops,” he said. “Gotta finish up before we piss ‘em off.” He waved what Richard now recognized as a knife from the PNWS kitchen at both of them.

“It’s Seattle,” Richard snapped as Alex began shoving him a bit more forcefully out of the studio. “There’s always rain.”

She giggled and gently closed the door. Then her eyes went wide and she pulled her phone from the pocket of her dress. “Wait, wait.”

She opened the door again just as Nic chanted “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,” and plunged his knife into the avocado. Alex snapped a photo and then closed the door tight again.

Richard raised one silver, disbelieving eyebrow at her.

She waved her phone and looked a tad guilty. “For Instagram?”

“That is not a word.”

She giggled again and began sashaying toward the kitchen. Richard followed cautiously, keeping his eyes firmly on her hands and away from the interesting swish of her dress. There were more knives in the kitchen.

“Before you can say anything,” she called over her shoulder, “I know. I know it’s absolutely apophenia.” Richard felt his shoulders loosen a little. “Totally psychosomatic. But ever since Nic started sacrificing the avocado a couple of years ago we’ve always had a smooth time with the recording and mixing.” She turned into the kitchen and pulled two mugs down from the shelf. “Sure, it’s superstitious. But it works, for whatever reason.” Her shoulders bunched under her pale dress and he tensed, hands curling back into fists. “Plus we get great guac for lunch tomorrow.”

Alex spun around to face him. He stiffened and squinted in the ferocity of her bright and sunny smile. Then he looked down. Her small hands held two boxes of tea out for his inspection. “Would you like the Raspberry Zinger or the Honey Vanilla Chamomile?”

He stumbled as the tension drained out of him in a hot rush. Richard caught himself on the counter as the world slowly slipped back into the safe, understood familiarity it had held before he drifted off to sleep that night. He shoved his earlier thoughts of how easy it would be to snap her slim neck back into the dark hole where the rest of his personal demons lived.

Then Richard huffed a small laugh and dragged a shaky hand through his hair. “Ladies’ choice.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Inspired by a Tumblr conversation with remembertowrite  
> 2)  Behold the history of the sacrificial podcast avocado!  
> 3) If you ever want to open a door silently, the methods referenced here totally work.  
> 4) If you’re curious, Alex and Nic prefer to use Mango Dragonfruit candles from Bath and Bodyworks for their ritual. Because they were on sale and Nic thinks they smell AWESOME.  
> 5) As always, unbeated so all mistakes are mine.


End file.
